


Lovebirds

by thebearking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black Romance, Breakfast, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lovey-Dovey, Morning After, Mutant Reader, POC Reader, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romantic Fluff, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: You and Sam are the most lovey-dovey couple on Earth.





	Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> i love sam so much. i picture him as one of those guys who plays it cool when he’s single but as soon as he’s in a relationship, he and his partner are insanely lovey dovey, at first genuinely, and then to just piss off the rest of the team. anyways here’s a little something for my favorite bird boy (sorry, clint).
> 
> oh, also the reader here is a black fem/femme mutant with angel wings. the wings are basically made of light so she can manifest them at will without having to fold them back in tight spaces. this takes place after her first night with sam.
> 
> there's a gender-neutral, racially ambiguous version of this on my tumblr btw.

_“If you ever, change your mind…_ ” You cracked another egg, catching the yolk in the shell before it could fall into the bowl. “ _About leaving, leaving me behind, oh, oh…”_

“Enjoying yourself?”

You chuckled, sashaying over to the trash can and dropping the eggshells inside. “Yes, Buck, this is one of the best mornings I’ve had in a while.” And it was true. You would tell him you didn’t know what had you in such a euphoric mood, but you’d be lying. The dull ache in your thighs and the fresh glow about your skin was evidence enough. “Why do you ask?” You flashed your friend a coy smile.

Bucky grinned back at you. He was sitting at the island, clad in a hoodie and sweats. “No reason. You just seem happy, s’all. Who’s this?” he asked, referring to the music playing softly from the speakers in the kitchen.

“Sam Cooke, ‘Bring It On Home to Me,’ 1962,” you replied seamlessly, returning to the counter to beat the eggs with a whisk. In lieu of singing, you swung your hips to the beat. “Add him to your list. Actually, Sam might have put him there already. Want an omelet?” You gestured to the one cooling off on a plate next to the stove.

“Sure. Thanks, doll.” He rose from his seat to take the plate and moved next to the fridge, most likely for some sriracha, you guessed. The man added the chili sauce to everything ever since you and Sam introduced him to it. “Looks divine.”

“Less talk, more eat. You’ll need at least one more of these, I’m guessing, what with that super soldier metabolism and all.” You poured the eggs into the pan.

“Morning, everyone. Oh, Y/N, please tell me you’re cooking for all of us. I’m begging you.”

You hummed, adding cheese, bell peppers, and mushrooms to the mixture. “That would be nice of me, wouldn’t it? We’ll see, Clint.”

Clint groaned. You heard the scrape of a chair against the floor as he sat down next to Bucky. “Why does Bucky get one then?”

“Don’t whine, Clint.” Natasha, the voice of reason, your constant lifesaver. “I’ll make you something.” She passed you on her way to the fridge, squeezing your shoulder as she went. “Have a nice night, Y/N? You look remarkably well rested.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I was up most of the night but under the best care.” You winked at her, and Nat pretended to gasp, scandalized. “I’m just in a good mood.” The song ended, and you whipped around, wielding your spatula menacingly at Clint, who had risen from his seat. “Clint, I swear to God, if you mess with the playlist I will punt you to high heaven. Back in your seat.”

Clint sat down. Bucky chuckled.

By the time Sam finally made his way to the kitchen that morning, you had made two more omelets and were working on a fifth. More of the Avengers (Steve, Tony, Wanda, and Bruce) were gathered around the kitchen, eating and talking quietly amongst themselves while you hummed and swayed along to Parliament. “Good morning, everyone!” he said jovially, then he dropped his voice a bit, speaking to you only. “Baby, whose playlist is this? I’ve heard one note and I already know it’s good.”

“Sent to me by a friend,” you replied, giggling when you felt Sam’s hands on you. He placed them first on your behind, sliding them up to your hips. You were wearing a floral-printed robe and your favorite nightgown, one which just so happened to be Sam’s favorite too: rose-gold satin, with lace trim and a formfitting waist. Sam brushed your curls to the side and pressed a kiss to your neck, right where he had left a mark earlier. “His library’s full of oldies. Poor thing doesn’t know anything beyond the realm of 1988.”

“Mmm,” he said absently. “Hey.” You turned your head to meet his lips with yours. “Good morning, angel.”

“Morning, handsome. Go sit down, I’ll bring you a plate. This one’s yours.” You kissed him once more before returning to your work. He grudgingly left you, singing along under his breath.

“Well, aren’t you two chipper this morning?” Tony remarked over his morning coffee. “Tell me, Flyboy, how was your night with the resident angel?”

You rolled your eyes, wondering if you should unfurl your wings in Tony’s lab again and knock all his tools to the floor. You always got a kick out of that.

Sam snorted at his words. “What makes you think I gotta tell you anything, Metalman? The things that happen between me and Y/N are top secret.” There was a pause before he continued, “But I will tell you one thing: it was heavenly.”

The rest of the table “oohed.” You slid Sam’s omelet onto a plate, stifling a smug smile. You grabbed a fork and flounced over to the kitchen island. “Here you are, baby. Hope it’s to your liking.”

Sam drew you in by the wrist and kissed you again, his brown eyes bright and sultry. “You’re always so good to me, baby. You know I’d eat anything you serve me.”

“Mmm, anything?” you crooned against his lips.

“Please, you two, we are in the kitchen. I demand a PG-rated breakfast.”

“Tony, you were the one asking about their night,” Nat piped up, reaching over to flick the man in the shoulder. “Let them be. They’re cute.”

“Hear that, sugar? We’re cute.” Sam kissed you again, and you sighed, wishing you could kiss him forever, like there was no one else around. You forced yourself to end the kiss, just so you could finally make yourself some breakfast.

“Don’t start something I can’t finish, Samuel,” you warned him over your shoulder as you walked back to the stove to clean up. “I’m still hella sore, thanks to you.”

Bucky laughed. Bruce choked on his coffee. Tony whistled. “Jesus,” said Steve under his breath. Wanda was all smiles, though you found her approval undeserved; the poor girl probably had to suffer with not just your own thoughts, but Sam’s, and that must be torture. You shut off the stove, doing your best to rein in your Sam-centric feelings.

“You two really are nasty,” Bucky mumbled. “Tryna give Steve here a heart attack.” He clapped his blushing friend on the back.

“I think it’s adorable, but maybe save the gooiness for the bedroom, huh, guys?” Tony persisted.

You placed the pan in the sink, rinsing it with cool water and watching it hiss and steam from the temperature shift. You turned off the water, grabbed your own omelet, and strode across the kitchen with your chin held high. “We’re taking this back to your room,” you said, taking Sam by the arm. Luckily he had the sense to take his food (and Bucky’s sriracha bottle) as you dragged him away down the hall.

Bucky shook his head in awe as he went on eating his second omelet. “He’s a lucky guy,” he muttered.

Clint glanced over at Bucky’s plate, peering up at him hopefully. “Can I have some?”

“Absolutely not.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn't know, reader's "music friend" is peter quill, and the music recs are from the gotg vol. 2 soundtrack. of course i mentioned him. i love him so much. also i swear i don't hate clint barton.


End file.
